


it’s all the same

by limehue



Series: save my soul for me; [4]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Throne sex lmao, tchalla is so good and Erik’s sort of a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limehue/pseuds/limehue
Summary: “Your highness,” Erik greets lazily despite the subtle increase in his own heartbeat.T’Challa looks up, weary, but nods and then motions for Erik to come closer.





	it’s all the same

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for your flood of support in this series! this is more of a really intense, filler fic! i know it seems like all they do is have sex and take naps but i promise im just tryna develop eriks character more ahahahaha sorry!

He thinks of his father sometimes. 

He thinks of his eyes, so wide and warm and full of a gentle sort of life. He thinks of them shut, body still and unmoving yet still warm. He thinks of his father on the floor, how his blood, hot to the touch, stained his fingers red despite not being visible to Erik through his father’s dark shirt.

Those thoughts, loud and angry, vibrate inside his chest until he feels like he might explode from the sheer pain.

He runs and then takes a shower with water so hot, it feels as if his skin might peel right off. Then he writes in his journal; scribbling nonsense on pages before ripping them out and starting over.

Among it all, spinning in his mind like a whirlpool in the middle of a deep, dark and dangerous ocean, is T’Challa, serene and so utterly kingly that Erik feels his throat close up when he’s near.

T’Challa, who is warm and a force to be feared, a challenge that Erik failed and can’t bring himself to attempt again. T’Challa with his fingers, clever and deft wrapped around Erik’s throat until he can’t breathe, nerves singing as T’Challa’s other hand wraps around him, jerking hard until he comes.

It’s always been rough between them, any other form of intimacy garners a blaring signal in Erik’s brain.

He doesn’t need that kind of relationship anyway.

“You are thinking too loud,” T’Challa’s voice, raspy and breathless, interrupts Erik.

Erik doesn’t reply; he pushes T’Challa’s sweat damp body off of himself, wincing at the come leaking out when he shifts slightly.

“Damn,” Erik mutters and adjusts until he can’t feel the come inside of himself.

“I am sorry,” T’Challa’s voice goes quiet, distracted.

He doesn’t meet Erik’s eyes as he frowns, as if thinking to himself briefly, before standing and heading into the bathroom.

Erik finds it in himself, surprisingly, to almost ask. 

—

He doesn’t see T’Challa again for nearly a week.

Missions and his new Wakandan outreach program keep him busy and Erik supposes, almost bitterly, that those are kingly responsibilities.

Five days precisely, he realizes when he saunters into the empty throne room and sees T’Challa slumped over himself on the throne, gaze trained on the floor. He waits until the Dora who accompanied him there leaves before treading closer.

“Your highness,” Erik greets lazily despite the subtle increase in his own heartbeat.

T’Challa looks up, weary, but nods and then motions for Erik to come closer.

“Erik,” he smiles barely, mouth twitching slightly as he clasps Erik’s wrist in his one hand, pulling Erik down to press their mouths together.

T’Challa kisses softer than usual, mouth soft and gentle, hand comfortably gripping Erik’s wrist.

“Come here,” he mumbles and then tugs Erik forward until Erik realizes, lifting his leg and settling his knee into the small space between T’Challa’s thigh and the throne. He throws his other leg over, straddling T’Challa completely.

The angle is awkward; they’re both too big to be in such a position but T’Challa’s kisses become slicker and more desperate, his arms wrapping around the small of Erik’s back, holding him tight so Erik shifts and tries to get comfortable.

T’Challa uses a hand to tip Erik’s head towards the side, nipping hard at the small but sensitive junction of his collar and neck. A moan, unexpectedly loud, tumbles from his throat; Erik turns his head, mouth brushing T’Challa’s forehead as he hunches slightly, kissing T’Challa harder, tongue slipping into T’Challa’s mouth, flicking gently against the roof of his mouth.

T’Challa’s hand on his hip tightens as he pushes his hips up, half hard cock brushing against Erik’s ass through his clothes.

“You need to get these off,” T’Challa growls, breaths hot and fast against the corner of Erik’s mouth.

Erik grins sharply, tossing his shirt off and towards the floor, “what if someone walks in?”

“Let them,” T’Challa mutters, pushing Erik away slightly to tug his own tunic up, fingers fumbling against the buttons on his pants.

He pulls Erik back, fingertips grazing against the knobs on Erik’s spine, free hand sliding across Erik’s neck and towards his mouth.

Erik shivers, heart thumping hysterically as he takes T’Challa’s fingers in his mouth, tongue sliding across the knuckles, stopping to suck on the pads of his fingers.

“Erik,” T’Challa’s voice cracks; he pulls his fingers out of Erik’s mouth and then kisses him, teeth tugging harshly at Erik’s bottom lip.

“Gonna give the ancestors a show, huh?” Erik mumbles, bracing himself as T’Challa slips his saliva slicked hand down the back of Erik’s pants, thumb brushing the cleft of his ass as he circles Erik’s hole lazily.

T’Challa laughs, a terribly wonderful sound, and nudges Erik to take his pants off. He makes it one leg off before T’Challa presses the pad of his thumb down hard against the rim of Erik’s hole, pulling a surprised noise from Erik’s mouth.

“Get on with it.” Erik tilts his head back and shuts his eyes, unable to look at T’Challa as he presses one finger in completely, curling it slightly. Erik shudders, pressing his body closer to T’Challa until they’re chest to chest, one hand gripping the arm of the throne, the other digging almost painfully into T’Challa’s shoulder.

As T’Challa adds another finger, he sighs, moving his hips slightly to catch a better angle inside of himself, whimpering almost embarrassingly when T’Challa manages to brush the tip of his finger against Erik’s prostate. His cock spurts precome against his stomach when T’Challa finds the same spot and presses against it harder. Erik bites down a breathless moan, teeth sinking hard into his bottom lip.

He cranes his neck, mouth pressing against T’Challa’s, not kissing him but not pulling away either, breaths coming hard and mingling with T’Challa’s.

“Hurry up,” he urges, pushing his hips down against T’Challa’s fully hard dick until T’Challa finally pulls his fingers out.

“Eager,” T’Challa wrinkles his nose.

Erik leans forward and catches T’Challa’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging painfully in response.

He lifts himself up, letting T’Challa position himself before lowering himself down slowly, sucking in a sharp breath.

T’Challa’s cock is long, wide enough that Erik feels his toes curl as he slowly enters, forehead dropping to T’Challa’s shoulder until he’s fully inside.

The pain is distracting; Erik feels so fucking full that for a moment, it feels as if he might come right away.

“Move,” T’Challa says and it comes like a command, loud and easy and Erik gasps, hand gripping tightly at T’Challa’s shoulder for balance as he lifts his hips, sinking back down on T’Challa’s cock. Erik can feel his balls flush against his ass.

For a while, the rhythm is off. T’Challa pushes his hips forward when Erik thrusts himself down, T’Challa’s one hand circled around his waist, the other scratching bluntly at the planes of Erik’s shoulders. His thighs burn almost painfully as he moves. His hand, damp with sweat, slips against the smooth surface of the arm of the throne.

Erik lifts one of T’Challa’s hands up, placing it loosely around his neck as he pushes himself down sloppily on T’Challa’s cock.

“Hard,” he manages to say and T’Challa looks at him with wide, pitch black eyes, mouth bitten as he nods dazedly.

Erik sucks in a breath through his nose and then tips his head back, exposing his neck for T’Challa.

Eventually, Erik finds the rhythm, sinking down on T’Challa’s dick as T’Challa thrusts up, one hand wrapping messily around Erik’s dick, palm slick with precome as he jerks Erik off.

It hurts; he can’t breathe with T’Challa’s long fingers wrapped tight around his throat but in a way that’s dizzying and so, so good that he feels as if he might die from the sheer pleasure.

Erik nudges his nose against T’Challa’s cheekbone, shifting and pressing his cheek against T’Challa’s as another moan, sharp and raspy echos from his mouth. T’Challa tugs at his dick hard, thumb swiping over the slit over and over as Erik bounces on his cock, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“M’close,” he grits his teeth, pushing himself closer until his cock brushes against T’Challa’s stomach, T’Challa’s hand trapped between their sweat slicked bodies. His grip on Erik’s throat loosens slightly.

T’Challa gives a particularly sharp thrust, dick hitting Erik’s prostate hard, fingers slipping against Erik’s cock; Erik whimpers, hips stuttering slowly, forehead pressed to T’Challa’s as he comes.

T’Challa doesn’t stop. Instead, he pulls his hand out from between them, both hands gripping tight at Erik’s hips as he thrusts several more times against Erik’s painfully sensitive prostate, coming abruptly inside of him with a low growl.

For a moment, with their chests pressed so closely, Erik can feel T’Challa’s heartbeat, thumping against his ribs rapidly, against his own. For a moment, it feels as if their hearts are beating together.

Erik winces slightly, exhaling through his nose as he lifts himself up, one leg numb from the angle at which they fucked as he stands, tugging his pants back on. T’Challa shifts, tucking himself back in but stays seated.

“I need a shower,” he grumbles, turning to leave.

He can feel T’Challa’s hand enclose around his wrist, tugging him back as he stands as well, kissing Erik.

It’s distractingly gentle, one hand cupping Erik’s jaw as he nips at Erik’s lip.

He pulls away after a second and then, regrettably, lets Erik go.

Wordlessly, Erik stumbles out of the throne room.

—

He wears the bruises around his throat for a week.

In the shower, he presses hard on them until he can feel the faint sting in the tender flesh. Until he can almost feel T’Challa’s hand around his throat, can almost feel his breaths against Erik’s mouth.

He inspects them in the mirror, watches as they go from a purplish red to a pale yellow and eventually disappear.

T’Challa leaves for a few days and Erik asks a Dora Milaje once where he went. She doesn’t respond and he sighs but doesn’t try again.

He runs and writes and flirts absently with one of the guards who has been posted at his door.

A month since T’Challa saved Erik’s life marks the end of his council mandated therapy sessions. The council also calls the Dora Milaje off Erik’s supervision and post 2 guards at his door instead. One of them is a tall, young man with almond eyes and a slow drawl who bothers to entertain Erik’s advances. Erik learns, with the use of gleaming smiles and almost interested laughter, that his name is K’Dak. 

When night comes and the guards change duties, he lets K’Dak slip into his room, let’s him lift Erik against the wall and fuck him dry until it hurts and he comes with a choked groan.

K’Dak doesn’t stay, he presses a harsh kiss to Erik’s mouth and leaves with a promise to be back.

—

He wakes up in the middle of the night, heart beating fast enough that it feels as if it might beat straight out of his chest. Erik sits up, reaching automatically for the phantom gun beneath his pillow. He stops himself, instead snatching the glass of water off the side table and gulping it down with a hand that trembles.

He gets up and shuffles around in his closet and pulls his journal out from under a mass of clothes, fingers scrambling to find a pen.

He writes nonsense, words that don’t make sense to him, and then crumples the page and tosses it to the floor angrily.

Erik takes a deep breath and then shuffles out of his own room and across the hall and turns left until he reaches T’Challa’s door, knocking sharply on the door.

It takes a moment, but T’Challa opens the door with a yawn and Erik feels the an almost heavy relief flood his chest as he slips in through the door, throwing his arms around T’Challa’s neck immediately.

He buries his face in the crook of T’Challa’s neck, nosing at his jugular which beats steadily as his heartbeat, inhaling slowly. He smells of lavender and honey and something so delicate and good that Erik can’t put his finger on.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes into T’Challa’s neck, unable to let go. The words surprise him as they tumble from his tongue, over and over again until T’Challa slowly pulls himself away and grabs Erik’s face in his warm palms.

“What happened?”

His voice is soft and sweet and laced with remnants of sleep and Erik feels the shame reach his ears, burning hot.

It’s pathetic, the fact that if it weren’t for casual fucking, T’Challa would not spare Erik – a traitor of the crown – a second glance. And yet, T’Challa cradles his face so gently that Erik doesn’t realize tears have slipped from his eyes, blurring his vision.

Erik shakes his head and then pulls himself from T’Challa’s embrace.

“Nothing,” he replies and then wipes harshly at the tears with his knuckles.

T’Challa nods, unconvinced, but willing to let it go and then slips his hand in Erik’s, entwining their fingers snugly and tugging him towards the bed.

Erik lets himself be lead towards the bed despite the alarm ringing manically in his brain, something along the lines of wrong and wrong and wrong.

He tunes it out.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos r greatly appreciated, it’s my first time writing a full sex scene so sorry if i butchered it omg.... stay tuned, we are definitely gonna start introducing more characters/opinions and some twists!


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